Friday, September 8, 2017
Sunrise Through Ash and Smoke
And as the pink sun rises up
against the flat, gray sky
she, too, rises up from the ash
rubbing it from her eye.
She's not a phoenix, swift of wing,
for she can't even fly,
but that does not mean she can't rise
and give it a good try!
Labels:Fiction: the dream
poetry: Songs of Joy,
Poetry: Songs of Longing
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